( Thanks for doing me the flavor and giving me a review. To be honest, I lost a bit of interest in telling this story and it takes me awhile to go over and edit it, since I wrote this years ago. But I know what I want to do now, so enough of my blabbing~ :3 This chapter is more of a look into the character, which I neglected to do at the get go, stupid me x.x' Enjoy, review, throw objects at me, I don't know.)

I didn't sleep much after the previous day's activities, so I dare say my form fit near a zombie the next morning. My mind kept going over what exactly happened and how. To be honest, I didn't get it myself. It was the middle of summer here in Steelport, and normally my spirits are higher than this, but it all began to sink in. I was fucking screwed... Locked in a situation unwanted, but not able to be easily ridden of. I don't understand exactly how this thought process started, but I began thinking of my life... How it could have led up to this point.

To start, my mother isn't my real mother. An orphan... One lost without hope. I hated where I was kept. All the other kids were a mess and often fights would break out around me. I can't remember everything, as most were best left forgotten at the time. Running... I did a lot of that. In order to survive, you needed to know how to run. The people who ran the orphanage had problems, such as they enjoyed beating up on children, physically and mentally. They would yell and scream, announcing how useless you were... Attempted to either make you shy and weak, fitting perfectly into their controlling hand, or driven crazy so they could ship you off. Less mouths to feed. I was a silent one. Too afraid to speak my mind, other than a few choice words. Cowering in the corner, thinking to myself.. Talking to myself, on the verge of insanity. No safety... None. Danger at every corner... Kids after each others necks, like rabid wolves with no better sense other than to feed. You were forced to attempt to fight or run. I always ran. Fighting was out of the question. No, I wouldn't.. Except once. The elders got into a spat in the kitchen, gluttons over the food. A knife dropped, skidding under the door I was silently listening up against. Stainless steel... Small, sharp, easy to hide...

I took that knife.

Snapping back to reality, I screamed out in pain. My mind determined to block the oncoming memory.

A fight broke out one crisp winter morning. Elders against some teenagers over food, clothing, mistreatment. Younger kids soon joined, having more than enough of the treatment themselves. Blood. Blood started to shed, a body dropping here and there. I... I got some on me, huddled in a corner. Cursing. One stumbled towards me, crazed look in his eye, determined to get rid of the little monsters tied to him through the job. I took my knife... Duck roll under the gap of spaced legs. Body turned, unsteady, blood trickling from his head, no doubt from a decent blow. He lurched... and so did my hand. I lost that knife that day.

The police took care of sorting out the mess, arriving as calls were placed. They found dead bodies, wounded, and me. I stood in the middle of it all, soaked in blood that wasn't mine. All I could do was smile as they took me away to the hospital. Had I snapped? I can't remember... Pills... They gave me pills... Now when I try to remember the rest, my mind repels me. To save me from my exposed self. My demon. My reality. Mom adopted me soon after, at my age of eight. I had never felt so loved, cared for.. Complete. I became a happy, talkative child. She was a designer... Still is. Had me help coloring different pictures. It was fun enough. I enjoy art.

It was after high school, around my 17th birthday, that we moved to Steelport as demanded from her job. All was well, enough to do, but the gang activity was less than enjoyable. It became too dangerous to go without protection, and thus Mom spent a decent bit of her income to install the security system and hidden room for emergencies. In case things got more than just alarming, that's when we got a small weapons cache, via my request. Something in me was for the use of weaponry, though most of me felt nervous with them. That was many years ago. Now... I am twenty-four.

" Sweetie, you've been sitting there, staring at completely nothing for the last half hour... Please, wash up! I'm making your favorites for breakfast~. "

The voice vanished. Only then did I snap back to reality, realizing I had been going on through my memories for the last bit of an hour. A nice shower would help a lot, so I went along with the plan, taking the rest of the hour to wash my hair and clear my mind. I'd need to work out again soon. As I gazed into the mirror at myself, I pouted.

Long black hair with purple and blue highlights. Eyes a hazel brown. My skin was always a very light brown, as my mom would call, the perfect tan. Working out... I go about it a unique way, of which amuses my Mom, always giving her a nice laugh... Ugh. Mothers. That fact aside, I prefer to keep in good shape, running or doing aerobics to keep up my flexibility. Tried parkour, it was alright until I busted my ass trying a new move. That ended that, though I still try new things occasionally. How I go about this... I move to music. It just helps to guide me and relax my mind while I work out. If I see something good on tv, I try it. Silly, I know. Dancing while trying out a new fighting move. Of course I knew I looked crazy. I am crazy, I'll admit. But I never end up needing to fight... Well, until now, that is. I left the bathroom, blow drying my hair until it was straight and dry, as I prefer. I peeked into my closet, eyeing my selection. I enjoyed darker clothes, or more light and interesting ones. A rainbow skull tank, with some baggy black sweat pants seemed well enough. Toe socks. I needed those. Love those. Totally addicted to those, so fuck you if you don't like them! With kitties on them! May be seen as girly, but I'm far from girly, so anyone to think so best put it out of their minds!

The smell of bacon and eggs began to grace my nose, thus shutting down all thought to my hunger. Mom was waiting, already having set the table. Our house was modern styled, the kitchen was a bit fancy though with marble counters, via Mom's preference.

" Novan! Oh, there you are. I've already fixed your favorites. Are you feeling ok?"

" I'm fine, Mom."

That look of knowing glistened in her eyes.

" Novan.. Don't lie to me."

" Mom, I... I just thought about my past... Trying to figure out how all of that could lead up into the situation I'm in now, that's all."

She smiled, pulling her silky black hair into a ponytail. It was always relaxing to look at Mom... Her sky blue eyes, pale skin with rose kissed cheeks. She was a comfort.

" Thank you. Now about you... You should know~ You've always been one to get frustrated at things and take the charge, then freeze up once you get further into things than you planned~ Oh, by the way, I figured we could visit our favorite restaurant today for my birthday! Maybe go shopping after~."

" Oh, right... Well we're clear on the fact that I pay for everything, alright?"

" Well.. Alright. How has your job been lately? You really enjoy it, don't you!"

" Yes, Mom. I enjoy my field of design, helping to set up sites and managing certain commercials."

To be honest, I fucking hate my job.